We Are Nowhere and It's Now
by yuffiehighwind
Summary: Being in love (or at least in lust) with another member of the Gang only leads to trouble. Multiple pairings, slash and het.
1. Artemis

_**Story Summary: **__Being in love (or at least in lust) with another member of the Gang only leads to trouble._

_**Story Notes**__: The relationships in this fic include Artemis/Frank, Dee/Dennis, Dennis/Mac, Mac/Charlie, and Charlie/Dee, in that order. Each chapter is told from a different character's point of view. The story becomes sexually explicit after Chapter 3, "Dennis." Warning: Sibling incest. See the bottom of this page for more notes._

* * *

**We Are Nowhere and It's Now**

_I got no plans and too much time_  
_I feel too restless to unwind_  
_I'm always lost in thought_  
_As I walk a block to my favorite neon sign_  
_Where the waitress looks concerned_  
_But she never says a word_  
_Just turns the jukebox on_

**Chapter One: Artemis**

"You ever get your asshole licked by a French acrobat in the backseat of a Lexus?"

"What model? No, Artemis, of course not. Jesus Christ…"

"What? Don't give me that look. Gawd, Dee, for a girl who gets around, you can be a real prude!"

Dee rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to washing mugs.

"Now that I think about it, he was probably from Quebec."

Artemis Dubois never predicted she would befriend a group of degenerates quite like the Gang, but the year she turned 28, Dee Reynolds stumbled into her life - literally crashing to the floor after tripping over Artemis' knockoff Balenciaga handbag - and offered her friendship. Or, at least, a paycheck.

So what if the job at Paddy's Pub was nonexistent as soon as Dee's brother got a look at her? Fuck that shallow bastard! Artemis knew she was smoking hot and so did a good chunk of Philadelphia.

_Of all the acting classes in Philadelphia, she had to walk into mine._

Dee had no backbone. No confidence. She was petty, prone to jealousy, and would backstab you in a heartbeat. She was an ugly drunk and was insufferable sober. Artemis remained Dee's friend because of the Gang, more than anything else - (those boys were hilarious!) - and for free drinks at the bar. Dee's father, too, was a draw, because he had four decades of sexual experience under his belt and would try anything once.

Squat and far from pretty, Frank Reynolds could never be called a catch, and had anyone known they were dating, they would assume a hot young thing like Artemis was in it for his money. She wasn't, despite being dirt poor. She loved him, even though he was a despicable, trashy, selfish animal. Even after they broke up, Artemis felt some affection for the man, and for his dysfunctional family. Long after the text messages from Dee and booty calls from Frank stopped coming, Artemis bore no ill will for the Gang. If they ever called, she would always show up.

* * *

_**Additional Story Notes: **_

_Written for the prompt on the Dreamwidth kinkmeme:_

_"Charlie/Mac/Dennis/Dee, Weird Codependent Poly Foursome:_

_So my weird thing with Sunny shipping is I think I know who I want to hook up and then some other pair comes along and gives me all the feels. And then I realize that any one of these combinations will probably end with the worst parts of someone being emphasized, and someone else feeling dangerously left out, and a weird explosion of the group dynamic because none of them can handle change for very long._

_I'd love a fic where the gang (sans Frank, who I just kind of want to marry Artemis and go slumming into the sunset) all hook up in various combinations, and eventually realize that their one true loves are each other."_

_Takes place after season nine. Title and lyrics come from the song by Bright Eyes._


	2. Sweet Dee

_**Chapter Warning: **Sibling incest._

* * *

**Chapter Two: Sweet Dee**

The most shocking thing about that first night wasn't his desire for her, or even her own desire. It wasn't the revelation of how long they'd secretly wanted each other, or that they didn't feel ashamed. No, the _most_ shocking thing to Dee was how good Dennis was in bed.

Like, toe-curlingly good. No-coaching-required good. Consistent from start to finish. Yes, Dennis was insufferably smug about it later, but for valid reasons. The sex was fucking fantastic, which could be credited to how long Dennis had longed for her, and how Dee wasn't just any conquest. Dennis couldn't just get in and get off, he had to impress her. For the same annoying reason he always did. To _win._

She couldn't begrudge him that. She was his sister, and they had competed at everything since they were children. Sex was surely the most competitive.

Dennis always won, except when they both lost, and this infuriated Dee even when she was coming. _How dare he!_ she thought. As if blindsiding her with declarations of love wasn't enough, her brother had to make her come so hard she embraced religion mid-coitus. Dee was so loud Dennis covered her mouth with his hand, though he probably would have done that anyway, the sick fuck.

They were in the back office when it happened, and while the rest of the Gang had already gone home, there was still some risk someone could return at any moment.

"You don't get it," Dennis told her. "I meant what I said on that tarmac."

"That you love me because I'm your twin sister, blahblahblah. You're still an asshole."

"I didn't mean I loved you like a brother. I meant that I_ love_ you."

It still hadn't clicked at this point, so Dennis had to forgo words altogether and skip to the banging.

It wasn't the only time they banged, either. Dennis talked her into a second time, which Dee expected to be less passionate, but turned out even hotter _because_ it had been carefully planned. They couldn't have sex at Dennis and Mac's apartment for obvious reasons, so they had to do it at Dee's. They couldn't allow Mac to get suspicious, so they did it during the day, while Mac was at the bar. Both needed excuses not to be at work, but none so fake-sounding anyone would think something was amiss. It would have been simpler had they told the Gang they were stepping out together for an hour, which was rare but not unusual. Nothing pleased Dennis more than a convoluted plan, however, not even banging his sister.

Dee was pacing the kitchen - anxious and dry heaving, her stomach full of butterflies - when the doorbell rang. This was still so fucked up she could hardly believe she was letting it happen. _Making_ it happen.

She had the stupidest thought that maybe it would be less disgusting if they were only _half _siblings. Or even regular siblings. But they were twins, together since before they were even _born_. Jesus fucking Christ this was _insane_, but then again so was Dennis. Dee wasn't much better half the time.

Why couldn't they have been cousins? That was a thing, right?

Dennis acted like they weren't related at all. The man who had vomited at the thought of having sex with her on Halloween was gone. The new Dennis was so bold he would touch her around the Gang - feeling her up under tables or behind the bar. Anything to fluster her. Dee liked the attention so much she broke out old skirts from the back of her closet. Their third and fourth times together were Dee's idea - once more in her apartment, and again in the backseat of his car. Dennis initiated their fifth liaison on a day Dee wore a skirt, bending her over the desk in the back office. He left the door unlocked, "For the extra thrill," he said. Dee thought it was fucking hot, but realized later that Dennis had merely forgotten, and was too lazy to lock it when he remembered.

The affair petered out after a few months, the sex becoming more routine than taboo. No amount of hot, illegal sex could assuage the tension built over thirty-six years of conflict, either.

"Just bang already!" their friends had joked during their squabbles. Now Dee wanted to roll her eyes and reply, "Tried that. Didn't work." But Dennis was one bang she would take to her grave.

That is, if Dennis didn't tell anyone first.


	3. Dennis

_**Chapter Note:** Sexually explicit._

* * *

**Chapter Three: Dennis**

Sweet Dee once said that Dennis wasn't gay, he was just really, really vain. That he just liked the attention. Ten years later, Dennis discovered that wasn't entirely true. He fell somewhere in between.

Still, he never would have predicted he'd end up with a dick in his mouth.

Dennis would have considered (when faced with no alternative) putting his _own _dick in another man's mouth, but performing fellatio himself had been outside the realm of possibility. _Far_ outside.

But it was happening anyway, and not under any kind of duress. Dennis hadn't been drugged or coerced. He hadn't been offered a deal or lost a bet. He _wanted_ this.

"Oh, God," Mac moaned. "_Jesus Christ_, Dennis, you really know your way around a dick!"

Of course he did. What a stupid thing to say! Dennis was the best at everything. And, you know, _had_ one. In his opinion, no woman would ever _truly_ know how to suck dick well. (Except women like Carmen. Oh no, that was probably why Mac had dated Carmen...)

When Mac pulled too hard on his hair, thrusting his hips until he gagged, Dennis thought, _This should be the other way around. It was always supposed to be the other way around._

It all started because Dennis had become impatient. Infuriated, even, that Mac had never made a move, even after the truth had become embarrassingly obvious.

Mac _loved_ him, which Dennis had known for a while now. He had known for much longer that Mac wasn't straight, but _in love_ with him? It had taken a long time to realize this, and Dennis couldn't believe he had missed all the signs.

Okay, so their friendship was somewhat unorthodox, at times cripplingly codependent. (Dee's words, not his, and she wasn't one to talk in light of their whole..._thing_.) But it had never made them _lovers._ They weren't _banging_.

And yeah, maybe sometimes Dennis was turned on a little by the thought of Mac lying in the other room yearning for him. He even jerked off a few times picturing Mac pinned beneath him, thrusting his hips and moaning his name as Dennis pounded his ass into the mattress...

No, no, no! Such thoughts had to stop. Dennis wasn't gay, and even if he was, sleeping with Mac would only complicate their friendship.

But sleeping with Mac became more appealing the more he considered it, and the stubborn man would have taken his unrequited love to the grave had Dennis not taken the initiative and requited it.

Even though it was sappy (and he found skipping straight to the sex preferable), Dennis thought the most simple and elegant gesture would be a kiss. There was also no better way to shut Mac up. They were sitting on the couch watching a movie when Dennis kicked into seduction mode, scooting closer to Mac and slinging his arm over the seat behind him. He stared at Mac until the man turned his head to ask him what was up. Dennis said, "There's something I've been meaning to say to you." Mac asked him what it was, and Dennis leaned in. His lips cut off Mac's startled "What the hell are you doing?"

Suffice it to say, Mac succumbed just as willingly as Dennis predicted. They began a secret affair, an arrangement much easier to conduct than the one with Dee since the two men lived together.

Having someone to kiss him, blow him, or bang him whenever he wanted made all Mac's incessant, needy questions worth it. _("Are you my boyfriend or my friend? Can we tell the others? Would you leave me if I did?")_ The situation was ideal. No drawn out courtship. No judgments. No problems integrating his partner with the Gang...

But a couple months into the relationship, everything changed. Until now, Mac had always been the bottom. _He_ was the one who sucked dick. (And when Dennis introduced bondage play, he served as sub.) Dennis wouldn't allow Mac to penetrate him, and Mac honored this rule.

He had explored every inch of Mac's body with his hands, but he had never kissed any lower than Mac's chest. Until tonight, while making out on the couch, as they sometimes did. _("This is wicked gay, man," Mac would say. "Do you want to stop?" "Um, no." "Then shut the hell up and kiss me.")_

Lightly biting Mac's shoulder (marks on his throat could be seen by the Gang) elicited the sweetest gasps. Dennis made the natural progression south, lifting Mac's shirt to swirl his tongue around his left nipple. He squeezed the right one, then scraped it with his fingernails, and smiled into Mac's hot skin when the man let out a tiny hiss of pain.

Pressing his lips to Mac's stomach got him a laugh.

"That tickles, dude!"

It wasn't the reaction Dennis was expecting, or wanted. He looked up at Mac, who was grinning at him affectionately. Then his friend's smile fell, and Mac looked concerned, almost wary. He must have seen something in Dennis' eyes that gave away what he was about to do.

Dennis kneeled on the floor and maneuvered Mac into a sitting position. Deaf to confused repetitions of his name, Dennis unzipped Mac's jeans. His pants were down his thighs in no time, Dennis already breathing wetly against Mac's hardening cock when Mac stopped him. He grabbed Dennis' chin to try and make Dennis look up and meet his gaze. He whispered one last questioning, "Dennis...?" before Dennis wrapped his lips around him, silencing him as well as their first kiss had.

It wasn't until halfway through that Dennis' conscious mind began to shout its protestations. But after everything they had done - after everything he had done _to Mac_ - he couldn't stop now. _This isn't so bad_, Dennis thought, but he wasn't looking forward to the next part. Somehow, swallowing Mac's cum made it _real, _as ludicrous at that sounded. "Cocksucking" could now go on his résumé as a marketable skill. Dennis Reynolds, Cum Swallower. He was so busy coming (ha!) up with jokes he failed to notice Mac softly moan his name and finish.

It tasted terrible, but he wasn't going to be rude and _spit_. Why did people do that? What was the point? That was definitely one of his pet peeves.

Dennis didn't even have to think about it. All that mattered was that it was over and looking up at Mac made it _worth_ it. He looked so fucking _satisfied_. Gobsmacked, too, like he couldn't believe what had just happened. Mac's jaw hung slack, and he looked down at Dennis through lidded eyes. Mac took a deep breath while Dennis held his own, anticipating what Mac would say next.

"Sorry I didn't warn you I was gonna come."

That wasn't what he expected either, but an apology was more than welcome.

"Oh, yeah, thanks again for that," Dennis said, sarcastically. "You _asshole!_"

They talked over each other, bickering the same way they did about everything.

"It's not like _you_ don't ever neglect to inform me..."

"It's common courtesy, Mac! Simple stuff!"

"...that you're going to come when I'm blowing you."

"Can we drop it? This is a big deal and you're making it awkward."

Mac blinked, taken off guard by his statement.

"Um, no, _you're_ making it awkward by telling me it's a big deal."

"I'm just being honest." It had been new and scary, but Dennis would never admit it, so he covered it with arrogance. With a smirk, he said, "I didn't know I had it in me."

"Well, you were incredible. C'mere."

Mac gestured for Dennis to come closer.

"Let me just rinse my mouth, first," he said, climbing to his feet.

"I said c'mere."

Mac, still half-dressed, pulled Dennis into his lap and kissed him. It was nice, but Dennis pulled away. Even with his growing list of sins, some things still squicked him.

"Dude! My mouth still tastes like your cum!"

"Yeah. So?"

"That's gross, dude!"

Mac rolled his eyes.

"You don't think that's gross?"

"Would it be fucked up if I said I liked it?" Mac asked.

Dennis shook his head.

"That's probably one of the least fucked up things about us."

"Good," said Mac. "'Cuz when you're ready, I really wanna try snowballing."

Had he really heard Mac say that? Dennis wasn't sure it would make giving head more appealing, but it could, in a way, hand him back some control. Yeah, that might be fun. Dennis grinned and leaned in for another kiss.

"How could I say no to that?"


	4. Mac

_**Chapter Notes:**__ Sexually explicit. The line about the Volkswagen is from the movie Mallrats._

* * *

**Chapter Four: Mac**

"Want another beer?"

Charlie's question startled Mac out of his thoughts. His body jerked imperceptibly, and he looked over at his friend, who was holding out a can for him. Mac smoothly pretended he'd been paying attention.

"Naw, man," he said. "I'm still working on this one."

"You've been nursing that beer for, like, thirty minutes, dude."

Had it really been that long? Mac hadn't noticed, too preoccupied with the worry that if he told Charlie he was sleeping with Dennis, his friend would be disgusted or horrified and leave him.

Them. Leave _them_.

Mac psyched himself up all day to tell Charlie. The two friends needed no excuse to hang out, but Mac had come to his apartment with the express purpose of confessing it all. He and Charlie shared everything, and had been best friends since childhood. Even if they hadn't been close, Mac felt compelled to tell _someone_, because the secret was killing him.

He feared two possible outcomes:

Number One: Charlie would run off with Frank to slum around some other city far away. It was plausible. He was Charlie's only other close friend, and hell, he might have been Charlie's father after all. They called themselves the Gruesome Twosome, and had a bond Mac couldn't understand but didn't begrudge. Frank provided Charlie with whatever Mac couldn't, though it mostly seemed to be a shared affection for gross degeneracy.

Number Two: Charlie could leave him for Dee. Whenever Mac, Dennis, and Frank excluded them or took a different side, the pair would almost always band together. Sometimes they even had their own adventures just because they felt like it, which Mac didn't know much about and couldn't even comprehend. Dee was annoying at best and completely insufferable at worst. For some reason, she and Charlie seemed to have become closer. If Charlie, who had no cell phone, ever went missing, Dee was always the last person Mac called. However, his friend had been with Dee so often these past few weeks, she had become the first. They even had a kind of flirty vibe going, but Mac chalked that up to his overactive imagination.

Speaking of overactive, Mac's attention was drawn to the muffled moans and cries of ecstasy coming from the tinny speakers of a small television across the room.

"What the hell are we watching, again? Scrambled porn? What is this, 1989?"

"I don't have one of those fancy TVs with the DVDs, or the DUIs, or whatever the hell movies come in these days. I've just got this tape player."

"Don't you have, I dunno, _the Internet_ for this kinda thing? I could've sworn Frank had a laptop."

"Oh, I don't touch Frank's computer. Not since I broke the last one."

Mac sighed. Of course he had.

"Did you wipe the hard drive with one of those magnets you carted home from the dump last month?"

Mac recalled Frank and Charlie had a thing for trash that went beyond disgusting laziness. If something had once been useful, odds were it would end up in their apartment. And if something was cool, like an electro-magnet, it was a certainty.

"Those things are sick, dude!" Charlie said, grinning. "But no, there was...an accident."

Mac craned his head to look for the shattered remains of Frank's computer. He imagined all the ways such a machine could get smashed or dropped or drenched in water until it fried.

"Don't bother looking. It was years ago."

"How did the new one survive? You have zero self-restraint."

"I don't need it, so I don't use it."

Mac gestured to the porno.

"Then how do you jerk off?"

Charlie frowned, his brow wrinkling, and Mac thought he looked...offended.

"I use my imagination," he said. "Jeez! Personal, much?"

"Sorry. It's just...I need some _stimulation_ if I wanna come. You know, visually."

The other man took a sip of his drink and shrugged.

"Well, I don't need high-def tits to get off. It just kinda happens."

"Okay," Mac said, backing off the subject. It was hard (_difficult,_ he amended, in his head) to avoid thinking about sex when two people were doing it so enthusiastically in Charlie's living room. Even shrunk down onto a 12 inch CRT set plucked right out of 1995, they were distracting. Mac had forgotten why they were even watching it.

Oh, right. The movie had been sitting in the VCR when Charlie turned it on. They pressed play to see what it was and discovered that someone, presumably Frank, had stopped the tape during a particularly intimate scene. One in which the lead actress was getting banged in a very uncomfortable place that wasn't the back of a Volkswagen. They had left it on out of boredom.

"So," Mac said, "You wanna shut this off and watch something else?"

Charlie shrugged again. He was being uncharacteristically silent, his eyes fixed on the screen. Mac noticed Charlie shift slightly in his seat when he caught Mac staring.

"Maybe we could...I dunno, maybe we could watch just a little more," Charlie said.

Mac opened his mouth to comment on the film's terrible quality and direction. All the details that stood out if you focused on anything more than the actress' impeccable figure. Her male co-star was that hairy, grungy type Mac was surprised could even make it in straight porn. That took points off as well, but they were making a fair go of it.

Charlie sat to Mac's right, slouched low in his seat. He looked somewhat flustered, rapidly bobbing his left leg and nervously picking at the skin around his thumb. Charlie took a swig of beer and licked the leftover droplets from his lips, some of which remained in his beard.

Only half joking, Mac curiously asked, "Are you...Are you _turned on_ right now?"

"Pshaw! No."

Mac laughed. "Don't lie to me, bro, you _so_ are."

Even in baggy jeans, he could spot his friend's erection.

"I'm not!"

Charlie could be an expert liar sometimes. A shockingly good one, for someone who usually said his thoughts out loud and saw no need to censor himself.

This was not one of those times.

"It _is_ pretty hot," Mac said, but he wasn't thinking about the film. His eyes darted to Charlie's upper thigh, where the man's hand rested.

The actress onscreen arched her back and moaned wantonly. Her co-star positioned her ankles on his shoulders and thrust harder, eliciting even louder noises. He grunted gutturally with the effort, and the sound of their bodies slapping together competed with the film's generic keyboard soundtrack. Whoever did the sound mixing was only slightly worse than the editor, but the ecstatic cries of these strangers still stirred Mac's lust. They had obviously awakened his friend's libido as well.

"Would you...?" Mac began to say.

But no, that was a stupid request. They hadn't done that since college. (Or, at least, since their friends had been in college.)

"Would you want to, um...?"

Charlie's hand, which he had been (unconsciously?) inching towards his erection, froze and he turned to look at Mac.

"Never mind," Mac said, taking a swig of beer. He grimaced when he discovered it was warm.

"It's just me, dude," Charlie said. "Spit it out."

In a breathless rush of syllables, Mac asked, "Wouldyouwanttojerkofftogether?"

Instead of looking aghast, Charlie grinned. Mac feared he sounded like he did back in the ninth grade, when they were curious about sex and Mac was desperate to have it. That was embarrassing all on its own, even if Mac _were_ out, and Charlie _wasn't_ just a friend, and this wasn't crossing a line.

But Charlie was someone who wouldn't judge him for blushing like a thirty-six year old schoolboy.

"Sure," Charlie said, and Mac's heart thumped a little faster, like he was still in goddamn junior high.

Charlie rested his beer on the coffee table so he could unzip his jeans and free his cock. Looking straight at the television, he began to lazily stroke himself.

_Wow, that was easy, _Mac thought_._ Before he looked like some perv who wasn't participating, Mac unbuckled his belt and reached into his own pants. He massaged himself hard, wrapped his fingers around his erection and got to work.

If Charlie noticed Mac glancing at him more frequently than was appropriate, he didn't show it.

The actors had their orgasms while they'd been talking, and a new couple appeared onscreen to pick up where they'd left off. There was still no plot or hot guys, but the actor had a large cock that impressed his partner so much she begged him to take her, and this was enough for Mac.

An idea came to him then, lifted from another high school memory. One set in dim, childhood bedrooms with closed curtains that leaked summer sunlight. Muted pornography to the soundtrack of their shallow breathing, moans suppressed so their mothers wouldn't hear.

"You wanna race?"

"What?"

"Remember? 'See who comes first?'"

Instead of stopping immediately and saying, "Fuck no, this is weird," Charlie sucked in a breath and stroked himself faster.

"Okay, you're on!"

Mac smirked and matched his pace.

Ever since Mac had begun sleeping with Dennis, his possessive, controlling partner had forbade masturbation. Dennis insisted he be the one to make Mac come, and he alone. That would be all well and good if Dennis didn't tease Mac with a practice known as "edging." He would tie Mac's hands to the bedposts and bring him agonizingly close to orgasm before stopping, then do it again. And again. Mac would futilely thrust his pelvis into empty air, his desperation eliciting evil little chuckles from his partner, who demanded that Mac plead for release. These sessions could be tortuous, but gave Mac the most intense orgasms he had ever experienced. He thanked God that Dennis had insisted they try it.

Coming as quickly as possible would be a refreshing change.

Mac wasn't certain what Charlie was getting out of this, but was sure the man didn't feel anything for Mac stronger than friendship. _Guys do this kind of thing all the time_, he told himself. _(Yeah, sure. Before the invention of the videocassette and the personal computer.)_

At least they were sitting a fair distance apart. Mac and Charlie may have touched each other as teenagers - _(How could Mac possibly forget the thrill of their first time, or the self-loathing that had followed?)_ - but this was different. They were pushing forty now, and it was more than a little late for experimenting. Dennis had wisely skipped past the "experiment" excuse and straight into banging him. Dennis was a man who didn't fuck around.

Mac leaned his head back, shutting his eyes. He pictured Dennis on his knees, pleasuring him with his mouth. Mac was on his way to winning their race when he suddenly pictured a scowling, disapproving Dennis standing over him saying, "What the fuck are you doing?"

Pointing at Charlie, the phantom Dennis said, "I can't believe you would do this to me with someone like _him!"_

_It's nothing_, Mac wanted to say. _We're not even looking at each other. Calm the fuck down, dude!_

This imaginary conversation, as insane as that was, just about killed Mac's boner. His hand slowed, then stopped, and he let out a frustrated noise.

Charlie asked, "What's wrong?"

"I can't come," Mac replied.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I keep overthinking it."

He glanced over at Charlie, whose fingers still massaged his exposed erection. Mac blushed, looking away.

"Just relax," Charlie said.

"It's har..._Difficult_. I've had a lot on my mind lately, and this porno is terrible."

"This was your idea."

"I know, I know. I thought it would...I don't know what I thought."

"Want some help?"

_What?_

"What?"

"To get you going."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Charlie."

"Why not?"

"We're friends, and friends don't do that shit!"

There wasn't any point, not anymore, in saying _straight_ men didn't do it either. Mac was 99% sure Charlie had figured him out long ago.

But Jesus Christ, it was one thing jerking off _together_, but _Charlie _giving him a _hand job_ was something else entirely.

"It's not like we've never..." Charlie paused and it was his turn to blush.

Mac exclaimed, "That was twenty years ago!"

The other man frowned, looking disappointed and insulted. Mac covered his face with his hands, feeling like an asshole.

"Never heard somebody turn down a hand job before," Charlie said. Mac opened one eye and saw Charlie had shifted to face him. He was also...smirking a little? "You just seem pretty wound up."

"Like a clock," Mac said, sighing.

"It's just to get you going, so you can...relax."

"Don't do it," said the Dennis in Mac's brain. "Don't you dare!"

"Yeah. That would...That would be kinda nice."

"Okay, then, it's decided. Now close your eyes."

Mac swallowed thickly and did so. He felt Charlie's palm on his thigh, and even this light touch was making him hard again.

_"Fuck..."_ Mac said, as Charlie's hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking. The imaginary Dennis was apoplectic. After several tentative jerks, Mac asked Charlie, "Can you go faster?" dismissing Dennis' fuming ghost in a puff of smoke.

Charlie did so, his grip becoming harder and more certain. After a while, Mac panted, _"Faster,"_ and Charlie clucked, annoyed, "I'm going as fast as I can, bro."

_Don't call me your brother,_ Mac thought. _Brothers don't do this!_

(Little did he know.)

Charlie proved to be as good as Dennis, if not better. It was a skill perfected by a lifelong masturbator. The man simply used whatever technique most pleased himself. It was vigorous, generous, and entirely un-self-conscious.

"So much for our race," Charlie said, and since his friend's own erection was going completely ignored, a lustful Mac had a wicked thought.

"Stop," he said. "Straddle my lap."

Charlie chuckled nervously.

"Wh...what?"

"Chill out, man," Mac said, when Charlie's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "I'm not gonna fuck you, I just wanna touch you too, so get over here."

Mac, the larger and stronger of the two, suddenly pulled Charlie to him, so close their lips nearly touched. Their shallow breaths mingled in the slim space between them and Mac thought of how easy it would be to close the gap and kiss him.

He didn't, because Charlie's breath smelled like PBR and garlic pizza. His tongue probably held that acrid taste of un-brushed teeth, too. Besides, Charlie was just a friend, and friends didn't kiss. (What did that make Dennis, then?)

As long as they didn't break _that_ rule, this didn't count, Mac decided, pushing Charlie's pants further down his hips. This way it was easier to grip his friend's erection and elicit those breathy, high-pitched sex noises he had first heard and found endearing twenty years ago.

"Match my rhythm," Mac said, guiding Charlie's arm with his free hand. No longer competing to finish, Mac wanted them to come simultaneously, if it was possible. Dennis never bothered to try. Not that he didn't make Mac come during sex. He did, of course. Sometimes before, and sometimes after.

But sitting on a ratty couch in a tumble-down tenement with his oldest friend straddling his lap felt different. Safer? Was that the word for it? Charlie wasn't someone he had to impress. Even several months into his arrangement with Dennis, Mac didn't feel comfortable enough to be himself in bed, especially when he came.

What an absurd thing to worry about during sex! Everyone looked like idiots when they came. Dennis' face was much funnier, and more embarrassing, than any expression Mac had seen his other partners make.

Maybe women just pulled less goofy faces.

"Just like that," Mac said, opening his eyes slightly to watch Charlie's face as he grew closer and closer to orgasm. Mac looked down at their cocks and intersecting forearms. He stopped stroking Charlie to grab his hips and grind their pelvises together, and the other man gasped sharply at the sensation.

They had been jerking each other off with dry palms, which wasn't the most pleasing way to masturbate, but finding lube in this place was a Russian roulette in substances. (Frank and Charlie had, in the past, switched bottles around, from mayonnaise to shampoo to rat poison, and Mac didn't want any of that shit on his dick by accident.). Now pre-cum dripped from their cocks, just enough to serve as lubricant while their bodies rubbed together. Mac ground against Charlie the way they might clothed. Dennis called it "frotting," which was a wicked lame, clinical term Mac preferred not to use. It sounded like something a horse might do, or a method of sewing clothes. Grinding was a word with so much more character, and it felt much more accurate.

"Easy, Charlie," he said, in response to Charlie's quickened thrusts. "Slow down."

"But I need to come," his friend whined. "Mac..."

"We're gonna come together, and I'm not there yet."

"Why do we have to come at the same time?"

"Because it's hot."

"You think I'm hot?"

That wasn't what Mac had meant, but he nodded anyway, pressing his sweaty forehead to Charlie's.

"Yes," he muttered. "Now be quiet and wrap your arms around my neck. I'll get us there."

Charlie did so, and Mac reached down to stroke both their cocks together.

"Jesus fuck..." Charlie murmured in Mac's ear. "Let me come," he said, when Mac slowed his strokes almost entirely to a stop.

Mac grinned. He was taking a page from Dennis' book, doing the same thing that drove himself crazy. What a shitty trick to pull on his best friend!

"You wanna come?" Mac asked gruffly, channeling Dennis' own brand of delicious evil. "Huh?"

Charlie stammered, "Y-yeah."

"Say please."

"You seriously expect me to...?"

"Just say the thing, Charlie."

"Okay, okay, fine. _Please_, Mac."

"Please what?"

"You're killin' me, man!"

_"Charlie._"

"_Please_ make me come."

"There, was that so hard?"

All Charlie had intended was to give Mac a relaxing hand-job. To make him quietly orgasm with a shiver and a sigh, but Mac was a top. He was always _meant_ to be a top, to call the shots in bed and make his partner beg for more.

_Fuck_ Dennis, that controlling prick.

Mac's hand resumed its earlier speed, and the smaller man leaned heavily on him. Mac thought he could sense Charlie's heart racing. He could certainly hear Charlie's rapid breaths and feel those puffs of hot air on his neck.

"You're almost there," he said. "Come on, Charlie, come all over my hand. I want to see it. I want to watch you come."

With a shudder and a gasp, Charlie dug his nails into Mac's shoulders and came, spurting cum all over Mac's fist and onto their clothes. Mac's own orgasm followed soon after, and he felt so fucking good that the mess on his shirt didn't matter in the slightest.

Struggling to catch their breath, their eyes met. Mac expected to see horrified realization cross Charlie's face that he'd just had sex, sort of, with his best friend. Things would never be the same again.

_"Ohhhh my God!" _screamed the woman on the TV behind him. As if on cue, the actors had come to their own satisfying conclusion.

Mac and Charlie burst into giddy laughter.

Grinning widely, Charlie said, "We...we've gotta do this again sometime."

Mac's smile swiftly transformed into shock.

"Are you serious?"

Charlie looked hurt.

"I mean, if you want to," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Mac replied. "Yeah, uh, maybe. Sure."

Hell _yes_ he wanted to, but what did that mean? Or did it have to mean anything?

"We should, um, clean ourselves up," he said.

"Yeah," Charlie agreed, wiping away some of the cum that covered their bodies and clothes. _"Eww."_

"You got any towels?" Mac asked, looking around for some. Was there _anything_ sanitary in this apartment?

Charlie got up and fished around beneath the end table. "Here," he said, chucking a half-empty roll of paper towels at Mac. To Mac's relief, they appeared unused.

"This'll do," he said, and just as the pair had finished cleaning up and getting dressed (as well as turning off the TV), the door slammed open and Frank entered. Grinning manically, he waved a fifth of Jägermeister at them.

"Who's thirsty?" he shouted. Almost automatically, the two younger men raised their hands.

Mac could _definitely_ use a drink.


	5. Charlie

_**Chapter Notes:** Sexually explicit. See the bottom of the page for more notes._

* * *

**Chapter Five: Charlie**

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Dee asked him this sometimes, when she was somewhere between tipsy and hammered, and Charlie could remember the first time she did. Her spine was held rigid by a tight brace, a ring of metal looping around her neck the only sign such impeccable posture was painfully forced. She wore baggier clothes back then, to fit around the plastic and aluminum contraption that encircled her middle as well. Dee couldn't bend her neck to look bashfully down at her feet, so she grew out her hair until it was long enough to hide the metal ring. Unless you approached her and looked more closely.

Bullies would often knock her textbooks from her hands and snicker at her while she struggled, unable to bend over, to retrieve them. The first day they met, Charlie saw this happen and went over to help the girl. Mac's new friend Dennis walked past him to kneel down and assist her instead. The boy berated Dee for being careless, as if it had been her fault. "Who's that?" Charlie asked Mac, who explained the "monster" was Dennis' twin sister. They would be forced to hang out with her in the years to come, whenever they were at Dennis' house, but Charlie didn't think she was so bad. Homely and annoying, maybe, but not a monster.

Flash forward two years and they were at their sophomore semiformal. Dee was wearing gold eye shadow with thick black eyeliner, and Charlie thought she looked like an Egyptian. Dee stood by the punch table drinking a nip of peppermint Schnapps. She stared longingly at Bill Ponderosa, who was dancing with an older girl to Janet Jackson's "That's the Way Love Goes."

Dee handed Charlie the bottle without looking. Their fingers brushed as he took it, and she probably didn't realize she was touching "Dirtgrub." Then again, maybe she did. He was the only one of her brother's friends she seemed to feel comfortable around.

"Charlie," she asked, angling her body so she could look at him. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

He took a sip from the bottle, which he could have drained in its entirety but knew would be a dick move. "I like your eye shadow," he said, handing it back to her, then walked away.

* * *

Dee asked him again five years later, at a kegger at UPenn. Delta Omega Lambda's porch was more brightly lit than the dance had been, so "pretty" wasn't accurate. "Hot" may still have been applicable, after Dee had ditched the back brace.

Dee didn't have a pretty face. It was just a fact, like gravity or the awesomeness of a Geno's cheesesteak. But below the neck Dee was a total babe, and outfitted herself in tight, revealing clothes, especially during her first year free from the bonds of metal and plastic. The Aluminum Monster was dead, though sometimes they would call her that anyway.

"Do you think I'm sexy?" Dee slurred. Charlie took a swig from his red solo cup, which had been a rip-off at five dollars. He'd taken the five from the purse Dee left on the porch swing unguarded, so the beer in it was technically hers. Charlie stepped back and gave Dee an appraisal. The girl was somewhere into her fourth drink and she stood before him unsteadily, looking sad and watery eyed. This wasn't an attempt at flirting.

Charlie shrugged and said, "Yeah?" He wanted to say "probably," because he just didn't see Dee that way. (Or see most girls that way, come to think of it.) She was like a sister to him. Or a cousin. A second cousin, once removed.

But sisters could look attractive - _(Charlie had heard Dennis call Dee "sexy" before, usually after his seventh drink, as he wrapped his arms around her from behind in an unsettling, un-brotherly way)_ - and sometimes Charlie could tell a decent lie. He would learn to lie well years later, but hadn't mastered it yet. Dee was too drunk to notice if he didn't sound sincere.

"Yes," Charlie said. "You look very sexy."

He had to give Dee points for effort, in her low-cut tank and hip-hugging mini skirt. Other things were just off, like the heavy make-up that only made her look slutty, not exotic. She wore jewelry that baffled him, like the "tattoo" choker around her neck, the belly piercing visible when she wore crop tops, and her jangling gold bracelets. Dee styled her hair like the actress on that show everybody liked. What was her name? Joan? Jennifer? Strands snagged in her hoop earrings whenever she tucked it behind her ears. She towered over him in red platform wedges, which took points off as well, because Charlie preferred women his own height.

Dee let out something between a cry and a laugh and enveloped him in a hug both unexpected and unwelcome. "Thank you!" she said. Charlie stood frozen, arms hung awkwardly at his sides. She squeezed him tight, saying, "That's sooo what I needed to hear."

Dee leaned down to kiss his cheek. He supposed that was okay, since the French did it. Or the Italians, or something. But then Dee kissed him again, on the lips. Her breath reeked of cheap beer and he didn't kiss back. Charlie shut his eyes, because staring at Dee's face from this close was just weird. He feared she might open her eyes and see _his_ open eyes, and say something mean like, "Ugh, Charlie, who the hell keeps their eyes open when they kiss?" Back in high school, Charlie used to kiss Stacy Corvelli, but she wasn't like a sister. She was just one of Dennis' slutty friends.

Charlie could feel Dee's mouth on his neck, then his ear. She sucked on his earlobe while digging her sharp, manicured fingernails into his shoulder. The girl pressed her body to his, too close for comfort, and none of this was sexy.

Dee was sexier when she was sober, Charlie decided. He gently pushed her away, saying, "I'm going back inside to find Mac."

Dee hid her face, possibly crying again, as she had earlier that night when Dennis rebuffed her to go bang a sorority girl. Sure, it had been a shitty thing to do. Mac was pissed at Dennis for the same reason. He invited them all the way out there to this party full of preppy douchebags, but wouldn't hang out with them when they arrived? Yeah, he could see Dee being annoyed with her twin, but Charlie couldn't understand why she was so sad. And what was up with the grabby hands and the kissing? Did she suddenly have a crush on him? Was she really that lonely?

As he had done at the dance years earlier, Charlie handed Dee the drink they shared and walked away.

* * *

Over the years, Dee would still ask Charlie if she was attractive. (_"Do I look hot? Is this hot?"_)His answer depended on what she was wearing, or what he'd been drinking, and if he felt affection for her that week or hated her. If he wanted her to go away, he said yes. If he wanted to hurt her feelings, he said no. Sometimes Charlie would suggest things Dee could do differently with her hair, or her make-up, or her entire personality.

Dee didn't kiss him for fifteen years, not counting the smacker he'd given her when they were held hostage by the McPoyles. Not realizing the McPoyles were bluffing, Charlie feared they might die that day. The heat, stress, and uncertainty of the situation made him think, "Fuck it," and tell her he loved her. He may not have gotten another chance to say it. And he _did_ love her. As a friend.

Both of them were drunk this time, watching the movie Underworld through a haze of pot smoke and alcohol. Maybe it was strange, hanging out with Dee just for the sake of it. Unless they had some common goal, like making money or becoming famous, the pair rarely saw each other outside Paddy's Pub. If they did, it was because they had been rejected by the Gang for one reason or another. Tonight Charlie didn't have a reason. He swiped Frank's stash of weed like he'd swiped the older man's steaks years earlier, because Dee hated huffing and he wondered what she'd be like high. Probably a lot less mean.

Scattered across Dee's coffee table and on the floor around it were many empty bottles of Yuengling Lager, along with several half-eaten boxes of take-out from the Happy Dragon. Playing cards, left over from four heated rounds of High or Low and sticky with sweet-n-sour sauce, served as coasters or had fallen on the rug. A glass pipe lay on its side on the table, spilling what remained of its cashed bowl. On the TV, Kate Beckinsale shot up a werewolf with a Beretta.

Two people couldn't stretch out on Dee's small couch, and neither could one, for that matter. So Dee sat up, while Charlie lay with his head in her lap. He had kicked off his sneakers and hooked his legs over the armrest.

Dee softly ran her fingers through his hair, which felt really nice so he didn't stop her. The light touch was putting Charlie to sleep, but that may also have been due to the eight beers he'd drank or the two bowls they'd smoked. Kate was talking to some creepy old British dude, now. This vampire movie had gotten boring real fast.

"Charlie," Dee said. Eyes closed, he replied with an indistinct hum. She repeated his name and he asked, "What?" Charlie could never have expected what happened next.

Dee pressed her lips to his and Charlie opened his eyes in surprise. She gave him what could have been a friendly peck, but probably wasn't, since he could feel her tongue. When he didn't respond, Dee shuffled him aside so she could get up, leaving him lying there looking up at her upside-down in puzzled wonder. Dee didn't stand there for long.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asked, chuckling nervously, when she sat down in his lap.

"What's it look like, turkey?" she said, taking his face in her hands and kissing him again.

"Um...It...it seems like you have me confused with somebody else."

"Nope."

She said it matter-of-factly, like they did this kind of thing all the time. Dee switched her attention to his neck, gradually working her way to his ear. She traced the outline with the tip of her tongue, and her technique had apparently improved since college.

It was weird, totally out of the blue, and made no sense at all, but felt strangely welcome all the same. But that was probably the weed and beer talking.

Charlie didn't seek out sex. It just didn't interest him the way it did other people. He didn't even think about banging the Waitress. His fantasies typically involved holding her in his arms while she proclaimed her love for him. He imagined her having and raising his children. She would kiss him awake every morning, cook him dinner after work, and fall asleep curled up by his side.

That's not to say sex wasn't great. Sleeping with Ruby Taft had been an eye-opening experience, and sex appealed more to him now, insofar as he felt really, really good while he was having it.

Charlie never thought about Ruby anymore, and the girl only crossed his mind now because Dee was laying him down just like Ruby had, straddling his waist and slowly thrusting her pelvis until he was hard.

"Now tell me, why have you come to believe that Lucian still lives?"

"But I've given you all the proof you need!"

"Incoherent thoughts and images, nothing more."

"Mmm, I want you to fuck me, Charlie."

"W-what?"

Dee captured his lips again and continued moving her hips in that steady, easy rhythm.

"Which is precisely why the awakening is performed by an elder. You do not possess the necessary skills!"

With its volume still turned up high, Charlie couldn't help listening to the movie. The head vampires were yelling at Kate again. Charlie preferred the action scenes.

"Do you want me?" Dee murmured.

Charlie wanted her to keep rubbing her body against him like that.

"Keep going," he said hoarsely. Dee sat up to unbuckle his belt and open his fly.

This small couch, with its limited space, had become cramped. Charlie shifted his legs in an attempt to get more comfortable having a whole other person on top of him. He forgot the discomfort in his limbs when Dee reached into his boxers. He let out a throaty moan when her hand closed around him.

It felt great, no question about it, the pleasure building towards what was bound to be a satisfying climax. But a stoned Dee jerking him off wasn't as entertaining as Kate Beckinsale slaughtering werewolves, so Charlie continued to watch the film over her shoulder.

Dee's warm hands disappeared while she reached for the remote to shut off the TV. Charlie let out a disappointed whine.

"Hey, I was watching that!"

Dee rolled her eyes. "You really want to watch some stupid vampire movie while a beautiful woman is fucking you?"

"Who said anything about 'fucking?'" Charlie asked, sitting up.

"I thought we were..." Dee trailed off, looking slightly confused and a little let down. "Never mind."

Charlie gave her a puzzled frown of his own.

"I thought you were giving me a hand job."

Dee chuckled, her disappointment swinging back into mirth.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

Dee sat beside him on the couch and got to work. With no movie distracting him, all Charlie had to listen to was the sound of Dee's breathing and the organic noise of skin on skin. The neighbors upstairs were playing music that may have been alternative rock, or may have been hip hop. It might even have been jazz. The music was indistinct, so Charlie strained to hear it and figure out the difference.

Charlie sighed. These thoughts weren't getting him anywhere. He threw his head back and imagined the Waitress, instead. She was beautiful, her smile like a spring sunrise. Her gaze was drawn downward to his lap and she grinned, her eyes widening.

"Oh, Charlie!" the Waitress said, impressed. "You're so _big!_"

"You really think so?" Charlie asked, blushing.

"Huh?" Dee said. "I didn't say anything."

"I want you so bad, Charlie," said the Waitress, biting her lip.

"I want you too!"

"Charlie, are you...? Oh my God, you're imagining I'm someone else."

Dee stopped stroking and Charlie opened his eyes.

"Um..."

"You are, aren't you? What the hell, Charlie?!"

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that stuff out loud."

"You'd still be thinking it, though."

"What's the big deal, Dee?"

Indignant, Dee got up and headed into the kitchen.

"Where are you going? I haven't come yet!"

Charlie could see her through the kitchen's beaded curtain pulling another bottle of Yuengling from the fridge. She fished around in the silverware drawer for a bottle opener, since the one they'd been using was still on the coffee table. Dee lingered by the sink taking agitated swigs of her drink. Rock hard and frustrated, Charlie decided to just jerk himself off.

"Eww!" Dee said, returning to the living room. "What are you doing? Stop that!"

"You left me high and dry, Dee, so I'm taking matters into my own hands."

"If you're gonna come on my couch, then so am I."

Charlie stopped, grunting in frustration. He impatiently tapped his fingers on his knees to occupy his hands. Dee plopped down beside him holding her beer.

"Fine," Charlie said. "What did you have in mind?"

"Sex," she said_, _slowing down her speech, as if speaking to a child. "I want to have _sex._ With _you."_

Dry humping and hand jobs were one thing, but sex was another thing altogether. Sex with Dee could change everything.

As if having her hand on his dick hadn't already.

"This is moving...kinda fast."

"But it really isn't, Charlie," Dee said, placing her drink on the table. "It's been twenty years."

"Whoah, whoah, whoah!" an alarmed Charlie exclaimed. "Are you saying you've had a thing for me for _twenty years_?"

"Ugh, no! I mean we've been _friends_ for that long, and what do friends do for each other?"

"Act...friendly?"

_("We're friends, and friends don't do that shit!" Mac had told him, when Charlie offered Mac the same thing Dee was offering him now.) _

Dee scooted closer to him, placing her palm on his thigh. His gaze followed her hand and he swallowed. Her fingertips were only inches from his erection.

"They _help_ each other, Charlie. And I could use some help."

Before he knew it, Dee had removed her shirt and had begun taking off her pants.

"We help each other out all the time," she said. "Don't we?"

Dee's bra was the next to go, leaving her in just panties and socks.

"Sometimes, yeah," he said. "I guess."

"So let's help each other," she said, softly.

Speaking to him in hushed tones intended to put him at ease, Dee instructed him to lie down and close his eyes. Although it worked, and he felt relaxed with Dee caressing his chest making gentle shushing noises, it reminded him - as crazy as that was - of _Dennis._ If Charlie were to open his eyes, instead of a loving gaze, he might see the sinister expression of a Reynolds twin expertly manipulating him.

Dee tried removing Charlie's pants by herself with little success, so they fumbled with them together. His boxers and Dee's panties were the last to go, tossed on the floor with the rest of their clothing. Dee pushed Charlie back down and straddled him. Her skin felt hot, and pressed this close together, he could tell she was already wet.

"This is weird," he said. "This is _so_ fucking weird."

"Good weird?" she asked. "On second thought, don't answer that question just yet."

Dee reached between them to grasp his cock and position it so the tip was just inside her.

_"Ohh."_

_"There_ you are," she said, sinking down onto his cock. "How about now? Is it 'good weird?'"

"Fucking _great_ weird," Charlie said, with a grin.

Dee was much tighter than he expected, for a woman who had given birth and banged a third of Philadelphia.

(Yeah, yeah, Dee had only had something like twenty partners in as many years, but the Gang gave her shit for it anyway. The brunt of the slut shaming came from Dennis, which was telling. On his own, Charlie usually didn't mention it. He wasn't trying to be nice or anything, he just didn't care what Dee did if it didn't affect him. Though he supposed it affected him now; they probably should have been using a condom.)

Dee rode him at a leisurely pace, taking her time to bring them to orgasm. Charlie was more impatient. He wanted to flip her over, and bang her with swift, hard thrusts. At the same time, he was too lazy and too drunk to do anything but lie back and enjoy it, letting her do all the work.

For a while, Dee lay herself flush against him, resting her head on his shoulder with his arms wrapped around her. Listening to her sighs of pleasure, Charlie came to the conclusion that Dee wasn't looking for a quick fuck. She had wanted to be, well, _intimate_ with someone. It was like asking him if she was pretty over and over again, and finally getting the answer she wanted.

That made things about a thousand times more awkward.

He knew what he had to do. Charlie thrust into Dee hard, eliciting a startled sound. She gasped when he did it again, and as he moved faster, Dee moaned his name.

"Charlie..."

"Yeah?"

_"Fuck..."_

"Does that feel good?"

_"Yes!"_

"Can you sit up?"

"Yeah."

Dee raised herself up and resumed riding him. They moved their hips together at this new pace, and almost managed to do it in sync. The rhythm didn't matter much to him.

Watching a sweaty, naked Dee vigorously fuck him was both gross - not least because she pulled awful faces - and incredibly hot. If he closed his eyes he could see her at twenty-one: slender, perky, and fresh out of her back brace. Next he imagined the Waitress gazing down at him adoringly, mouthing touching sentiments he longed to hear and never would.

Charlie tried to fight it, but he couldn't help picturing Mac. He could see the man affectionately grinning at him, age sixteen and twenty-one and thirty-six all at once.

"Charlie," he said. _"Charlie_."

Charlie moaned brokenly.

_"Oh, Mac..._"

Dee slowed to a halt, and Charlie opened his eyes to see her gaping in shock.

Oh, just great. He'd done it again.

"You're kidding me," she said. Charlie smiled sheepishly at her. "You have _got_ to be _kidding_ me!"

Dee didn't get up, preferring to throw a tantrum with him still inside her. This provided Charlie some hope they would keep going. He was so close!

"Please don't stop, Dee! I promise it won't happen again."

"God _damn_ it, Charlie!"

Dee's outrage only fueled her passion. She seemed determined to make him remember who was really fucking him. She bent down to kiss him roughly, thrusting her tongue as fiercely as she did her hips. Dee ran her fingers through his hair until they snagged, breathing heavily against his throat and nipping his neck with her teeth.

Moaning nonsense syllables into her hair - (Charlie might have been saying _"Yes"_ over and over. He wasn't sure at this point) - he grabbed Dee's ass and squeezed hard. Grazing his fingernails down her naked back evoked pained noises from Dee that mingled with the sounds of her pleasure. Was this Mac in his arms, or the Waitress? No, Charlie was definitely banging a Reynolds, and that assertion made him think of Dennis, which was a frightening prospect.

This was a fucked up situation Charlie hadn't expected or even wanted. Sex with Dee had rarely crossed his mind, and he could count the times it had on one hand. Charlie liked her as a friend and sometimes liked hanging out with her, when she wasn't being a crazy, bitchy nuisance.

Good friends were hard to come by.

"Dee, I...I'm gonna come!"

Charlie wondered if he should pull out. They hadn't used a condom and Dee could still get pregnant. And did she have any STDs? Did _he_ have one now?

"Come inside me," Dee said, which settled that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I want you to."

"Okay."

"Come on, Charlie," Dee said. She didn't sound impatient, she sounded kind of like...

_"Oh..."_

"Just let it all go."

_"Oh, God..."_

"You're almost there. Come on, Charlie, come inside me. I want to watch you come."

Now _that _sounded _really_ familiar, and...

_"Oh, fuck!"_

...definitely helped.

_"There_ you go," Dee cooed, smoothing Charlie's damp hair off his forehead. "Feel good?"

"Yes," he said breathlessly. "Really fucking good."

Struggling to catch her own breath and looking exhausted, Dee got up to fetch some Kleenex. Charlie had to admit she looked pretty good naked. He averted his gaze when she wiped between her legs with a tissue. Gross.

Dee handed him the box.

"Here."

"Huh?"

"For your dick, stupid."

Charlie cleaned himself up, then fished around on the floor for his boxers.

"Was it good for you, too?" he asked her, getting dressed.

Dee shrugged. "I didn't finish."

Charlie frowned. "Really? I thought you must have at some point."

"You came too soon, asshole!" Although she looked flustered and frustrated, she didn't sound angry. Dee seemed used to men disappointing her in bed, and this made Charlie sad for her.

"Um, is there anything I can do?"

Dee grabbed her t-shirt from somewhere under the coffee table and pulled it on. Still naked from the waist down, she sat beside Charlie on the couch.

"Yes," she said, smirking. "Yes, as a matter of fact, there is."

Dee took his hand and placed it just above her pussy.

"Oh, you want a hand job?" he asked, and she nodded.

Charlie smiled.

"I can do that."

* * *

_**Additional Chapter Notes:**_

_*We first discover that Dee wore a scoliosis back brace in high school in "Underage Drinking: A National Concern," and find out more in episodes like "The Aluminum Monster vs. Fatty Magoo." She wore it until she was 20._  
_*Bill Ponderosa is Dee's old crush from high school, who is introduced in "Mac Fights Gay Marriage."_  
_*We find out Charlie's nickname in high school was "Dirtgrub" in "The High School Reunion."_  
_*Delta Omega Lambda was Dennis' fictional fraternity at the University of Pennsylvania. ("The Gang Reignites the Rivalry")_  
_*Geno's Steaks is a famous cheesesteak restaurant that has competed for decades with its rival across the street, Pat's King of Steaks, for the title of Best Cheesesteak in Philadelphia._  
_*In the college scene, Dee styles her hair after Jennifer Anniston, one of the stars of the sitcom F.R.I.E.N.D.S, whose look was copied by many women in the mid-1990's._  
_*Stacy Corvelli is the girl who took Charlie's virginity ("Charlie Wants an Abortion")._  
_*It is implied in the series that Charlie is asexual._  
_*Charlie's fantasies of the Waitress are based on "The Gang Saves the Day."_  
_*Charlie kisses Dee in "The Gang Gets Held Hostage," but it isn't very romantic, since he also keeps slapping her face. Don't worry, it's funny in context._  
_*In "Mac and Dennis: Manhunters," Charlie and Dee have lunch eating steaks they steal from Frank. They learn the lesson never to do it again after he tells them it's "human" meat._  
_*Yuengling Lager is a brand of beer that's brewed in Pennsylvania. It is so popular in the Delaware Valley that you can order "a lager" and the bartender will know which one you mean._  
_*High or Low is a card/drinking game in which the players are dealt a card and must guess whether the next card will be higher or lower._  
_*The Happy Dragon is a Chinese restaurant in South Philly._  
_*Several lines here are from the 2003 action/horror movie Underworld, a film about a vampire named Selene, played by Kate Beckinsale, who fights against werewolves but falls in love with one._  
_*Ruby Taft is the woman Charlie slept with in "Charlie and Dee Find Love."_


	6. Frank

**Chapter Six: Frank**

The first time his roommate went missing, Frank had come home so hammered he didn't notice, still patting the well-worn space beside him and saying "Goodnight Charlie" before passing out. It wasn't until he woke the next day, to the click of the front door being carefully shut, that he realized the kid had been gone all night. (There'd been no incomprehensible note left behind hinting at his whereabouts. No nothing.) Frank feigned sleep while Charlie crawled into bed, after hitting several objects with his foot and yelping in pain on the way. "Frank?" Charlie asked. "You awake?" Frank faked a snore in response.

The first time the Gang made a gay joke at Mac's expense and the man didn't get offended or defensive, Frank knew something had changed. It took less than three tries to guess why that might be, but it was hard to tell whether Mac had actually done the deed with a guy or not. It was tough to read any difference in his behavior with Dennis or Charlie, since the three men were constantly touching each other anyway. This would require an outsider.

Frank was handed one, on a night the bar actually attracted patrons. A foursome of handsome young men flush with cash were among them, and was that Mac at their table _flirting?_ Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Frank recalled that Dennis or Dee would sometimes do this to sell more drinks. But Mac wasn't tending bar. The men didn't even know he _worked_ there.

Mac being "friendly" to attractive men was one thing, but the real proof was closer to home. A transparently jealous Dennis dragging Mac into the back office confirmed Frank's suspicions. All he could think was, "Fucking _finally_."

Then there was Dee.

Deandra Reynolds was not an affectionate person, which could be due to Frank and her mother denying her affection as a child. No hugs, no kisses, or "I love you's." No Christmas presents beyond the practical. (Saving all the best for himself.) The most expensive present they got her was a car, and even that was used. She couldn't even drive it until she was 20.

Dee had still received an array of costly scoliosis treatments, because Frank wasn't a monster. (And having a crooked daughter would be bad for his image.) But her doctors touched her more than either parent, who believed a pat on the head would suffice, and that a dismissive "I know" was an adequate response to any "I love you" from their daughter. Yes, Frank had made mistakes and done wrong by his whore wife's bastard children, but it was too late to go back and change anything. He saw no point in even thinking about it.

Despite this emotional handicap, Dee was affectionate now. Frank caught her touching _Charlie_ more often, on the wrist or upper arm, and saw her hand linger on his for too long. This warranted more research, and Frank discovered that when sitting at a table, they kicked at each other playfully, Dee rubbing Charlie's calf with her foot. Frank was shocked. What the hell was this, middle school? What the fuck was going on?

A few months before this disgusting development, Dennis excused himself at the same time every other day saying he had a pilates class. Deandra would claim she had yoga, because the first few times she said she was volunteering at PennPIRG the Gang laughed in her face and asked what she was _really_ doing. The twins would leave together for the gym once they synced their excuses, and Frank considered following them to find out if they were actually getting fit or cooking up some other scheme.

The twice weekly gym dates soon became once weekly gym dates. _("Ha! You quit yoga, Dee? Figures. You quit everything you do," Mac had said, getting a lemon thrown at him in reply.) _Eventually, they were twice monthly, then ended altogether. The twins had either gotten sick of the gym or sick of each other. No surprise there.

Every little clue began to slot together, but Frank didn't _want_ to know everything about his young friends. (Especially whatever the twins had been up to.) Frank was now certain that Dennis and Mac were sleeping together, as well as Charlie and Dee. But none of this was interesting enough to hold his attention while the five of them were involved in various schemes and adventures every week, while Frank got blitzed in the interim. And other than the kid's occasional absences, his relationship with Charlie didn't change. That was all that really mattered.

* * *

Frank arrived at Paddy's early that morning. Or had he been there all night asleep at his desk? The latter was most likely, since Frank couldn't remember the journey from his apartment to the bar, and his stomach signaled he hadn't had breakfast or taken his morning dump. Before getting up to rectify either of these problems, Frank checked his email and dicked around on the computer for a while. (What the fuck was "Tumblr?" Whose browser history was this?) With a yawn and a stretch, Frank got up and headed for the bathroom.

After washing his hands and brushing his teeth with his finger, Frank searched for food. He could only find a bag of pretzels and some pickled eggs, which wasn't the worst breakfast he'd ever had. Grabbing some orange juice that tasted a little off, into which he poured some Stoli, he returned to the office to scroll Timber (or whatever the hell it was called) some more.

Frank almost didn't notice Charlie and Dennis enter the bar, but did hear them loudly vocalize their concerns about the front door being open. _("What the fuck, Charlie? Did you forget to lock up? We could have been robbed last night!" "It wasn't me, dude, so lay off!") _He was surprised they didn't enter the back office to check if the money was safe, and wouldn't Charlie have noticed Frank missing from the apartment? Unless he hadn't been home the previous night either.

_Goddammit, Deandra._

Frank's bitterness summoned his former daughter, whose shrill voice he could hear through the door sounding fearful and defensive.

"I keep telling you, it wasn't me on that tape! It was probably some other blonde slut."

"You are a lying whore!" Mac shouted. "I'm not stupid, okay? I know what I saw, and it explains why the two of you are always running off somewhere with some flimsy excuse—"

"I've been with Charlie the last couple of months, okay? That's why all the sneaking around, and secrets and lies and back me up here Charlie?"

At the mention of Charlie, Frank got up and cracked open the door just enough to watch the argument. With their backs to him, Dennis and Charlie sat on stools facing Dee and a furious Mac. The pair remained silent, blindsided by their agitated friends. All Charlie could think to say was "Uh..."

"What?" Mac asked. "Is that true?"

Dee said, "Yes" while Charlie protested, simultaneously, "No way, man! Me and Dee? You've gotta be joking!"

"He's lying," she said.

Mac seemed to have calmed down and looked closely at Charlie.

"I can't tell."

Dennis still hadn't said anything. He only looked back and forth between his friends in what might be shock, but Frank could only see the back of his head. Dee smacked Charlie's upper arm repeatedly.

"Ow, ow!" he said. "Okay, fine, yes! It's true."

Mac didn't look entirely convinced, and Dennis chose this moment to inflict even more abuse on Charlie.

"You?" Dennis shouted. "_You_ had your filthy, grubby hands all over my sister? You're dead!"

Dennis lunged for Charlie, hands outstretched to choke him. Charlie hopped off his stool and fled across the room. Dennis pursued him, chasing him around tables and chairs. The two men circled the pool table twice.

"Whoah whoah whoah! We had sex like one time, dude. Okay, two times. Maybe three. I wasn't really clear on that one."

"It counts as three," Dee said.

Charlie replied, "I don't think it does," as if that would help.

"I am going to murder you!" Dennis yelled. Charlie darted behind the bar, but didn't have the presence of mind to hide in the back office and barricade the door. Frank was grateful for this, because if Charlie did he would be discovered, and he wanted to continue watching the fight to see how it would all go down.

"Dee, why the hell did you tell them?"

"I had to cover. I had to_—_Mac knew about_—_oh my God, I can't breathe. I think I'm having a panic attack."

"Dee, calm down!" Dennis said.

"I can't be calm with your boyfriend slinging accusations everywhere. Totally unfounded ones, I might add!"

"Boyfriend?" Charlie asked.

Mac's anger melted away and guilt washed over him.

"I'm...I'm sorry I didn't tell you, dude," Mac said.

"You and Dennis?" Charlie said in disbelief. (How could the kid not have known? It was so obvious!) "Was this after we—"

"Before, actually," Mac said.

"What's he talking about, Charlie?" Dennis asked.

"Uh, Mac and I were just, ya know, watching some porn, and—"

Dennis shut his eyes and held out his hands to silence him. He looked like he was pushing away Charlie's words, as if he could force them out of his space and not have to deal with another brutal truth.

"Please, for the love of God, don't finish that sentence!"

Charlie shrugged.** "**It just kinda happened."

Dennis opened his eyes and bitterly said, complete with airquotes, "Oh, just like you and Dee 'kinda happened.' What the fuck, Charlie? Now I have _two_ reasons to chop you up and throw you in the Delaware River!"

"You touch a hair on his head and we're through," Mac said.

"We're 'through?' Seriously? How long have you wanted this, Mac?" Dennis gestured to his body, as if presenting himself as a work of art. "Too long to throw it away for a piece of trash," he said with a sneer, gesturing to Charlie.

"Charlie may be trash, but he's always been there for me, ever since we were little kids. And he'll be there no matter what, right Charlie?"

"That's right!" Charlie said, ignoring the "trash" comment.

Mac pointed to Dennis and Dee, and Frank had a sinking feeling in his gut. "So you two can go back to spitting in God's face, 'cause I'm out. I'll start looking for a new apartment in the morning." Mac headed for the exit.

"Don't do this, Mac," Dennis said.

"Yeah, don't," said Dee. "We aren't even together anymore!"

Frank felt like he'd been doused in a bucket of ice water. He felt dizzy and nauseous, but couldn't stop listening. Charlie appeared just as shocked.

"It got too weird," Dennis said.

Mac had paused at the door. He turned around to glare daggers at the twins. Charlie had been struck dumb, gaping like a fish.

_"'Weird?'" _said Dee. "It got too _boring_ for you. Let me guess, that's when you started fucking your roommate."

"Dee..."

"You think I don't get jealous? You think it didn't hurt when Mac said you were his boyfriend? Which is progress, by the way."

"It really is," Charlie agreed.

"It's been twenty years, you dipshits."

"It was only a matter of time, really."

"He's been in love with you since the day you first met."

Looking touched, Dennis asked Mac, "Is that true?"

Sheepishly, Mac replied, "A little, yeah." He walked back over to the Gang, right up to Dennis, and grasped his shoulder. "It's why I can't do without you, bro."

"Dennis can't live without you either, Mac," Dee said, rolling her eyes. "He talks about you all the goddamn time."

Dennis chuckled, then lied, "No, I don't."

"Yeah. You do. And you're suspiciously fond of doggy style."

The other two men groaned. They clearly did not want to hear what came next, and neither did Frank.

"That's not a gay thing, I just don't like your face."

"And I can't stand yours!" she shouted.

"When you're having an orgasm, you sound like a dying humpbacked whale!"

"And you look like a circus clown that's just had a stroke!"

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," Charlie said. "This is...this is stuff that needs to be kept private."

Mac said, "You already know my feelings about this." He held his thumb and index finger apart about an inch. "I was _this_ close to punching Dee in the face earlier. Also, I have to disagree with her about the orgasm thing."

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and said, "I think that's way too much information."

"And _I_ think you assholes need to keep your voices down."

Frank emerged from the back office. He had heard enough and had to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all.

Charlie exclaimed, "Oh, shit!"

Dee gasped. "Oh my God."

"What the hell, Frank?" said Dennis. "You were in the back office the whole time?"

"How much did you hear?" Mac asked.

"Plenty! Enough to be relieved I'm not actually related to these two degenerates." Frank gestured to Dennis and Dee, who had the decency to blush and look down at their feet. "Half of me is so disgusted, so _horrified_, that I could kill you both myself. And the other half thinks it makes perfect sense. Both halves want you to shut up about it."

Frank moved on to Mac next. "And as for _you._.."

His stern expression became a smile.

"You did it! You finally came out of the damn closet!" Frank's smile vanished just as soon as it appeared. "And you picked the worst guy to assfuck in the entire tri-state area. He'll use you, abuse you, and he sure as hell won't love you, but the two of you have been dancing around this thing for years, so it was bound to happen sometime."

Mac and Dennis exchanged a glance packed full of conflicted emotions, and Frank didn't bother decoding it. Now he was looking at his young roommate, who was possibly his bastard son, and poured every drop of love and concern into his voice when he said, "And Charlie. What're you doin', kid? Dee? She's trash! Mac? He's in love with that piece of shit! You're better off without 'em."

"But Frank," Charlie said. "Mac's my best friend." He smiled at Mac. "And I kinda...well, she's nothing like the Waitress, but I kinda _like_ Dee. Like, 'like her' like her." Next he smiled at Dee, who glanced guiltily at Dennis, then back at Charlie.

"After she banged her brother?" Frank asked, appalled. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"A lot of things, Frank," Mac said. Charlie narrowed his eyes at him. "But get to your point. I wanna see where you're going with this."

It was time to put his young friends in their place. Time to chew them out for being irresponsible shitheads who couldn't keep it in their pants. He had over sixty years of wisdom that had taught him the consequences of shitting where you eat.

But this was the Gang - four people who would never listen to reason, logic, or common sense. Threats never worked either, and they would continue doing whatever they liked, consequences be damned. This was the first time Frank had ever seen them show remorse for _anything_, and it had only been because it would tear them apart. And the Gang _needed_ each other. They needed each other more than they loved each other, if they were even capable of love, in order to survive_._

In this rare moment of clarity, Frank thought of the only thing he could say.

"You all need to put your petty, bullshit jealousies aside and just bang who you wanna bang."

Four sets of eyes blinked at him.

"That's it?" Dennis asked incredulously. "That's your advice?"

"Yeah. I've said my piece, so now can we please get back to normal?"

Mac said, "Get back to normal? How can we possibly do that? Things will never be the same again!"

"Mac's right," Dee said. "There's no going back to the way things were."

Charlie sighed."Things were so much better before everybody had sex with each other."

_What a bunch of whiney assholes_, Frank thought_. _The truth was right in front of their noses!

"Here's a real easy solution to your problem_: Stop having sex!"_

"Entirely?" Dennis asked, looking horrified.

"No," Frank said. "Bang somebody outside the Gang. Or don't bang anyone at all. And don't talk about it in the bar. The bar's off limits. That goes for _having_ sex, too."

Dennis said, "About that..."

Everyone looked towards the back office.

"You've gotta be shitting me," Frank muttered.

Dee asked, "Out of curiosity, who's banged in the back office?"

Everyone raised their hands, including Frank.

"Oh goddammit!"

Dennis said, "It_ is_ a convenient space."

"It has many uses," Mac agreed.

"So, new rule?" Dennis asked. "No sex in the bar?"

Unenthusiastically, the other three said as one, "No sex in the bar."

Frank added, "And no talking about it, either."

A choir of voices grumbled, "Fine."

"Okay, it's settled then," Frank said. "Let's all have a drink."

The Gang sat down and Charlie grabbed them five bottles of Yuengling, as if it were any other morning. (It may have been eleven, but it was five o'clock somewhere.) In Frank's mind, nothing could have diffused the tension better than the person who swaggered in next.

"Hello my lovelies!"

Artemis, so named for the Greek goddess of the hunt, had captured Frank's heart years ago. She was his favorite friend with benefits, and though it took sixty years to meet her, she had been well worth the wait.

"C'mere baby!"

Anyone else (who weren't getting paid) would cringe when Frank opened his arms wide to embrace them, but Artemis walked right over to bend down and give him a kiss.

"Artemis?" Dee asked, bewildered. "What are you doing here?"

Mac said,"Yeah, we haven't seen you since we shot Lethal Weapon 6."

Although the other three were merely surprised, Dennis looked disgusted.

"This? _This_ is a thing again?"

"Yup," Artemis said, unashamed. "And it almost wasn't. Frank called my old number, which I only check in case my accountant texts me. You see, I won a lawsuit against Old Navy a few years back, and—"

"You've got two phones?" Dee interrupted.

With grace and patience, Artemis replied, "It's my burner phone, from back when I was dealing Ecstasy."

"Of course it is," Dennis muttered.

Artemis continued, smiling, "This piece of man meat here calls me, asks me out on a date. Says he misses me. Wants to do all kinds of nasty things to me in the sack..."

"Real romantic stuff," Frank said.

"...and I was in between boyfriends so of course I said yes."

"In between boyfriends?" Dee asked.

"I'll tell you all about it later. Frank said to come by the bar this afternoon for lunch but I'm pretty sure it's because he wanted to get drunk and fool around."

Chuckling, Dennis said,"Well, knock yourselves out. Who are we to judge?"

Grateful for a distraction, Frank walked behind the bar to grab two random bottles of liquor. He nodded for Artemis to follow him into the back office.

"Remember what I said, okay?"

Mac said, "Wait, Frank, where are you going?"

"Where's it look like I'm going?"

"Frank!" Charlie exclaimed. "You said no sex in the bar!"

"I said _you_ guys can't have sex in the bar."

The Gang looked indignant and Frank laughed in their faces. Artemis went inside, softly snickering, and he followed after her.

* * *

"Son of a bitch!" Mac exclaimed, pounding the bar once with his fist.

"What a goddamn hypocrite!" said Dee.

Dennis said, "Who does he think he is, telling us what to do?"

"You think he has a point, you guys?" Mac asked. "About letting go of all our jealousy?"

"Easier said than done," Dee replied. "Isn't it, Dennis?"

Dennis, hands balled up into fists, glowered at Charlie.

"I'll work on it," he said.

Oblivious to any dark looks shot his way, Charlie asked, "If all this hadn't come out now, do you think we would have just kept on...?"

Mac finished the thought.

"Banging each other?"

Silence fell over the group. It awkwardly stretched on until Dennis said, "Some of us, probably."

Dee chuckled. "Yeah, but only, you know..."

"...the ones who aren't—"

"Related?" Charlie said.

The twins avoided looking at each other, or at anyone. After a brief silence, Dee said, "Can we just forget that part?"

"Yeah," said Dennis."Bury it waaaay down deep, in a dark hole where it couldn't possibly come to light, and vow to never speak of it ever again?"

"_Ever_."

To say their narrowed eyes and grim expressions bordered on murderous was an understatement.

"Yeah, yeah we can do that," Charlie said enthusiastically.

"Easy," Mac said.

"No problem."

"It's not like it's worse than anything else we've ever done."

"Well..."

"A little worse."

"Tiny bit worse."

Very softly and calmly, Dennis said, "Because I _will_ kill you."

Mac and Charlie broke into nervous laughter.

"I mean _you_, Charlie."

The two men went silent. Charlie swallowed, eyes bugged out and unable to look away from Dennis.

"So keep your mouth shut," the man said.

"Who would I even tell?" Charlie asked.

"That's not the point."

"Okay, we're past that," Mac said. "We've moved on to—"

"We're at the part where we all, you know, stop sleeping together," Dee said.

"Are we, though?" Mac asked.

"I think so, yeah."

"Dennis?"

Dennis drew his gaze away from Charlie, who could now finally breathe, to look at Mac. Mac had his eyebrows raised, his expression hopeful. Dennis looked at Dee next, whose eyes told him so much more, but whose expression could be boiled down to "annoyed."

He shrugged.

Before any of his friends could say something more about their predicament, loud grunts and moans emanated from the office.

_"Ohh Frank, fuck me harder!"_

_"Yes! Oh yeah!"_

_"Oh God, oh God!"_

_"Take it! Yeah!"_

Disgusted, Mac said, "Ugh! I _cannot_ understand what she sees in him."

"The same revolting lack of inhibitions?" Dennis said.

"Does she ever come over to the apartment?" Mac asked Charlie.

Charlie shrugged. "She used to."

"Where did you sleep?"

"In the hallway."

"That _sucks_, dude."

"I know. At least now I can just stay at..." Charlie nodded towards Dee, but before he could finish his statement, a look from Dennis shut him up. "Never mind."

The Gang cringed at another loud string of sex noises.

"Some things should just remain private," Mac said. Holding up his beer, he continued, "So I propose a toast. To _secrets."_

The other three exchanged dubious glances.

"Really?" Dee said. "That is the lamest thing I've ever heard."

"I'm in," Dennis said, holding out his drink. "To secrets."

"To secrets!" Charlie said.

"Fine,"Dee said, clinking her bottle with theirs._ "_Cheers."

The friends each took a swig of their beers, and the toast did little more than lead to another awkward silence.

Dennis slapped his hand on the bar.

"Break out the 151," he said. "We're doing shots."

Mac said,"Ooh, I like the sound of that."

Dee groaned. "I could use some damn Everclear."

"I've got some paint thinner in the utility closet," Charlie said.

"Even better," Mac replied.

* * *

In the back office, Frank and Artemis sat on opposite sides of the desk, still fully clothed. They laughed and clinked their own bottles of booze. Artemis leaned back in her chair.

"Those four really all fucked each other?" she asked. "Sounds hot."

Frank shook his head.

"The last thing I need is everybody at each other's throats."

Artemis took a swig of Patrón and said, "Better they're on each other's cocks." She patted Frank's hand. "Things'll settle down. They always do." She gripped his wrist and pulled him to her. "Now how's about we break the bar's new rules for real?"

Leaning over the desk, Artemis kissed him. Frank chuckled, a deep sound laced with lust and evil intent.

"Organ Grinder?" he asked.

Artemis sat back and thought about it. "Maybe if we had a bed. How about the Galloping Horse? Maybe the Double Decker?"

This woman would be the death of him.

"Cop's Delight is always a classic," Frank said.

Artemis rolled her eyes. "Boring! And I'll kick your ass if you try the Philly Fake-Out on me."

Frank smiled. "As if you don't love it."

Artemis' beautiful face broke out in a broad grin. Brown curls bouncing in the lamplight, she threw her head back and laughed.

_The End_

* * *

_**Endnote:** Thanks so much for reading, everybody! I hope you enjoyed it._


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